


Bricks in the Wall

by littleshopofhoruss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Trolls - Freeform, Flash Fan Fiction Friday, Gen, Songfic, albumfic is more accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleshopofhoruss/pseuds/littleshopofhoruss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes, you'll just have to claw your way through this disguise..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Flesh?

“-We came in?”

Meenah cut them off, a shake of her head. No. Not alright. All those friends who came to watch her had no business here. This was between her and the Empress, and the leeches who wanted a show would have to wait. True, they could watch if she wanted them to, but she refused when they begged to watch- they would be safer outside from stray blows. She turned to them, eleven pairs of eyes that stared back at her, at the palace. Aranea flashed her a thumbs up behind a pained smile, but Meenah kept moving towards the gates, from the heavy fear the others exhaled around her.  She was worried, Meenah thought, that little blue gill. There was hurt in her eyes, the sort of thing that said she already expected the loss of a friend. Meenah paused before the doors for one last roguish grin. It would tide the rest of them over until she came back out.

 

The palace doors swung wide, lit by the sunshine into a glassy blue. As loud as the doors creaked, Meenah could still make out the quiet little gasps that said Aranea was trying so, so hard not to cry. _I’ll be back for ya_ , she tried to promise silently, but the sound echoed back to her, a whispering breeze that swept away her certainty to the cold. _Your corpse party._

Her Imperious Radiance, if she held constant, would be waiting for the audience of a passing peasant in the throne room, ready to hold an open ear. She might like to wait with more guards, if she knew what the world had against her, Meenah thought. As it was, she refused to hide behind others- her successors still too weak for a challenge to the throne. True, Feferi was better with a trident than any other fighter, the kind of opponent you could never win out in a duel. Meenah, though- she had an ace to blow. She edged along walls, avoiding the warm glow of the throne room. No point in eluding the Empress, she knew, and yet she worked in the stealth and shadows. Her gills twitched with a tiny thrill as she listened for some sign of life in the hall. Nothing, nothing, only a quiet breathing noise. She must be asleep, Meenah guessed. Even as she chastised herself- too early to celebrate, this whole plan hinges on far too much- her lips tightened and curled up. Any advantage helped.

 

Meenah pressed her palms against the jewel- encrusted door, the gold cloisonnes twisting through these bits of color already warmed by the sun. Is this her last chance to turn back? Ya wanna win this? She breathed in the palace air, which swirled with faint traces of scents- perfumes distilled from exotic flowers, the stale musk of dust and stagnation, the sharp, homey tang of sea salt. _You’ll win it,_ she reassured herself. _Go. Take her down_.

 

With a snarl, she threw her weight against the doors, letting them crash open. Empress Feferi, dozing in her throne, fluttered open her eyes. She looked at Meenah, looking livid but dwarfed by the doorway, with a disguise of a smile. _Oh, Meenah, don’t you look angry! Come here, come to Feferi- tell me what’s bothering you, guppy; tell me what you feel._ Condescending prick. Thought she could moon around and keep everyone happy with her spaaace cadet dreams… Before she could part her smug fuschia lips, Meenah raised her hand, curling down two of her fingers and flashing a victory sign to the ruler. A challenge. Here, now, with the weapon of their choice.

 

Feferi sighed and stood with graceful resignation. Meenah rolled her eyes and waited for the Empress to trail through her inner monologue as she crossed the room to find her favorite trident. It was the worst part of being the Empress, having to kill off those pathetic little wigglers who weren’t strong enough to fight her, who had no idea what it took to rule an empire, who wanted nothing but the power and they just weren’t ready to handle it and little Meenah is the least mature challenger she’d seen yet, blah, blah, blah. _Drop the cullshit and grab that thing already. Fight me._

 

Finally, she pulled the fork out of a trunk of personal effects, returning her gaze to the challenger as she raised the trident over her head and let it drop on the floor with a thunk. All part of the ritual, memorized through repetition. With a quiet sigh, she steeled her gaze, the lights through the ceilings stained glass panels falling over her perpetually youthful face. The challenger was supposed to pull a trident of their own, to follow tradition. Meenah had other plans. With a cocky smirk, she pulled something else from her pocket and tossed it to the floor, letting it jangle on the way down. A look of confusion crossed the Empress’s face as the keys landed in front of her. She recognized them on sight- they were used to open the pens and collars of the invalid trolls she’d culled over the sweeps- but she couldn’t see why Meenah had them, what use they’d be in a fight. Meenah just waited, hoping the signal would be clear enough.

 

It was- two by two, hungry amber eyes emerged from the shadows of the walkways around the throne room, followed by jutting, twisted horns, outfits of rust and gold, and tyrian collars. The Empress staggered back and gasped as she pieced Meenah’s plan together, and she tried to contort her mouth into a plea for mercy. Meenah shook her head and pointed at Feferi. They wanted out of their cage, and I ain’t letting ‘em back in. Check and mate, Fef. With one last glance round the room, she clicked her nails against each other and strolled out of the room as the ex-culled lowbloods leapt at their jailor.

 

The keening screams of a displaced ruler raised and swelled as the trolls shouted and snarled, surging around her for a chance to sink their claws into the reason they had been locked away all this time. Red and brown streaks of blood were cast spattering onto the floor with just as much fervor as the tyrian, but Meenah paid no attention to the color, just letting herself notice the smell of the gore as it raced her to the front gates.

 

Meenah threw the doors open, startling her friends waiting outside. They waited, as if in a trance, but she crossed the gap in a run, sweeping as many as possible into a hug. She had made it- the new empress, and without a scratch on her. It was Rufioh who broke the silence with a cheer, and the others joined in readily, crowding around her as they shouted their happiness about her return. Aranea might have been crying, though in the chaos it was hard to sat exatly whose tears and snot had been smeared all over Meenah’s shirt.

 

One of the group stood distant, and Meenah noticed him after a minute of distraction. Right. Got to clean up some loose ends. Several hundred pissed-off, gutterblooded loose ends. She smiled around a shark’s mouth and pulled away, shouting Horuss’s name. With a cutting quick action, she snapped at the blueblood. He pulled out the detonator, ready to fire the charges he had secreted into the stone walls and vaulting ceilings of the palace. Her grin widened.

 

“Drop it on ‘em.”


	2. The Thin Ice

She wrapped her arms around the thin spindles of his body, steady even as he shook. The episode was fading, spiraling down from howls of pain and fear to silent convulsions, but Latula could still feel her matesprit coasting along on a million red and blue sparks. Moving gently, she wiped his spittle off her arm, hoping the faint yellow streaks wouldn’t be noticed in the already tear-stained pile. _You feel like ice, Tuna babe_ , she thought silently, not wanting to spook him. _I hope you pull through this swing soon._

Everything she thought she knew, in a single crack, had fallen away, leaving her alone with a broken boy, a baby. As the palace crumbled under the detonation, whatever forces held the friends together fell alongside it. Meenah broke from the embrace as the dust settled over the Empress and the corpses of the innocent lowbloods Meenah bribed with freedom to claw Her Imperiousness apart, turning away from them to face the rubble. Without a single glance behind her, she climbed to its top, crowing her victory all at once to the sky. _Take it down, we took it all down! Queen of the world- ooooh, ha ha! Momma is dead and buried in the sea, so let all your colors flow!_  Her laughter grew louder, wheezing, dissonant with her gills rippling and flowing out against the air.   _You’re with me or against me out there, you hear? You keep me happy or you end up dead!_ The words may not have been aimed at any of them in particular, but it was enough to send chills skating down her spine.

 

Tuna was fine through all of this, somehow. Even as Meenah got drunk on power as they watched. Even as the first of many trolls who had gathered to look fell to their feet, as if they saw clear how this world was no longer safe for them. Even as Kurloz- _Kurloz, you rat bastard of a Subjuggulator_ \- slunk away from the others, breaking off his moirallegiance with a look of reproach and a silent gesture even she could figure out. A few others followed too, but he paid no attention to them. He stood tall, his chin angled with an old, cocky arrogance, and he told her what he’d do to him if this new life should try to take them down. But by the time they made it out of the city proper, his confidence was flagging, leaking sparks from his eyes as an electric warning sign.

 

At least I got you safe in your hive before you really turned, babe, she thought, dragging him closer even as he twitched. Not much in here you haven’t already broken in one of your fits. May as well go somewhere that your damage won’t be as big a problem. One of the dangers of being so close to a psionic, she knew- they’re powered by the sheer force of their mind, and when they start to slip, they fall fast and hard, and they don’t get better. Tuna was one of the brightest she’d seen, pulling out powers from a depth she thought was impossible. It only made sense, then, that he’d burn out so quickly- crackling feebly like a block of ice thrown into the warm ocean. She knew from her endless school feedings what would happen to him, but the speed still surprised her- how fast he would flash from his cool happiness to blind rage to sobbing helplessness. _Baby, why’d it have to be your brain? Why not mine?_ she wondered as she hummed idly and stroked his trembling shoulders. _What a troll will do for the one she loves…_ She breathed deep, putting a voice behind her melody. “But ooooh, baby- ooooh, baby blue...” Hopefully, he wouldn’t be able to detect the thin ice of fear in her voice, the same shake that appears every time she has to comfort him in his spasming fits.

 

It would be harder than ever. Beforus was filled with the stirrings of tyranny, even in those first few hours. A young Empress always meant casualties as they learned the ropes, tried out new policies, stubbornly insisted on bringing the planet from their traditions to a modern system of life- but Meenah seemed especially eager at the prospect of spilling blood, anything to keep her safe and alive at the top. Culling, she broadcasted on every husktop and screen on the planet, was due for a change. The weak, the infirm, the dregs of society who drained their precious resources would be killed, not coddled. The decision would be anything but accepted- plenty of highbloods would be outraged at her for passing a blanket death sentence on their loves. What could they do, though? Dissenters had a habit of winding up impaled on a pike, so the Empress had the first and last word. Even on the decrees that made no sense, that would lead to nothing but a lot of dead wigglers who couldn’t fend for themselves- Mituna wouldn’t take it well, she had a feeling. _I’ll have to take care of his daddy too, no?_ _No, no…_

 

With a sigh she shook her head and pressed her matesprit tight against her body. It was a dangerous thing to do during an episode- Mituna hated the sense of being trapped, even if it was by a pair of gentle arms. But he had finally stopped shaking, giving way to a sobbing stream of tears running over his face- calm enough to tolerate the gesture and understand it was to comfort her, not him. She was afraid of what was coming, and she hoped he could understand that. It probably wasn’t a good idea to throw her whole self into ensuring her matesprit’s survival- Porrim would have some choice words if she ever found out. In the moment, though- in the chaos she could feel already swarming and buzzing over the planet- she may as well put her faith in something.

  
She felt the warmth slowly return to his body, and she smiled against the nape of his neck as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day, as it is wont to do, ended in a sugar binge for me. Since I was up writing until midnight, I decided I may as well wait to post it in the morning (okay, afternoon). The next chapter, though, should come in on Friday as planned.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I think this warrants a little explanation, I'll do my best. I wanted to challenge myself a little as a writer with some "found fiction"- taking inspiration, themes, and words from another work. I picked Pink Floyd's classic album- each chapter uses the full lyrics of the song it was named after, with exactly one line of dialogue per chapter. The overall plot will- if all goes as planned- follow Meenah's rise to power and how she tears down Beforus to recreate it as she pleases (with a few other minor distractions in the meantime).


End file.
